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Literature Text
october, you roll in on warm summer breezes and leaves with tips painted brilliant gold. you sweep in on pumpkin-spice promises and dreams of perfect under warm evening rain and tuesdays made of afternoon gold from sunrise to sunset, dreams so breathtaking they steal every tear right off your lashes.
october, you're made of memories colored bittersweet by old time. you paint heartbreak right next to hope on the tattered canvas of my heart and whisper words that will pass the same lips only when i close my eyes and listen to your sickeningly soft winds that taunt with a smile.
october, you are the magic thirteenth month hidden between the i and e in believe. you lace the air with stardust and pull fairies from the abandoned chest of wishes hiding in the dustiest, lonliest corners of my mind and set them free in midnight blue skies of childish longing, where they can't be caught even by the brightest butterfly nets.
october, you turn rain into something magical and set tiny chills in the air as a teasing promise of the beautiful rest to come. you tie my tongue in knots when i find the hidden constellations in your cotton candy patchwork stars, caught between the breath of day and the sigh of night, when you hold the world still in the palm of your hand.
october, you show me how to trust. you show me how to unchain my padlocked heart and open the rusty doors just in case some hopeless dreamer sees that there's something worth waiting for and decides to come in for awhile. you teach me how to take a chance and smile- for myself, once or twice- every time you set your autumn leaves ablaze with such rich colors, such striking auburn hues. you take my hand and promise this will be different, this will be forever, this will be magic and worth it and free of pain, and sometimes i smell the apple cider on your breath, the fresh hay in your straw-colored hair, the crisp singing breezes on the collar of your faded denim jacket, and i start to let go and fall a little. i start to believe- somewhere in the back of my mind, the bottom of my empty heart- just a little bit, in fairy tales. in wishes that come true.
october, when i count the stars in your gorgeous indigo deception of a sky, don't tell me that when i wake up, the fairy dust will fade away. let me cry myself to sleep and hold my dreams close, because if i don't, i'll lose them when your bittersweet sun begins to rise.
october, you're made of memories colored bittersweet by old time. you paint heartbreak right next to hope on the tattered canvas of my heart and whisper words that will pass the same lips only when i close my eyes and listen to your sickeningly soft winds that taunt with a smile.
october, you are the magic thirteenth month hidden between the i and e in believe. you lace the air with stardust and pull fairies from the abandoned chest of wishes hiding in the dustiest, lonliest corners of my mind and set them free in midnight blue skies of childish longing, where they can't be caught even by the brightest butterfly nets.
october, you turn rain into something magical and set tiny chills in the air as a teasing promise of the beautiful rest to come. you tie my tongue in knots when i find the hidden constellations in your cotton candy patchwork stars, caught between the breath of day and the sigh of night, when you hold the world still in the palm of your hand.
october, you show me how to trust. you show me how to unchain my padlocked heart and open the rusty doors just in case some hopeless dreamer sees that there's something worth waiting for and decides to come in for awhile. you teach me how to take a chance and smile- for myself, once or twice- every time you set your autumn leaves ablaze with such rich colors, such striking auburn hues. you take my hand and promise this will be different, this will be forever, this will be magic and worth it and free of pain, and sometimes i smell the apple cider on your breath, the fresh hay in your straw-colored hair, the crisp singing breezes on the collar of your faded denim jacket, and i start to let go and fall a little. i start to believe- somewhere in the back of my mind, the bottom of my empty heart- just a little bit, in fairy tales. in wishes that come true.
october, when i count the stars in your gorgeous indigo deception of a sky, don't tell me that when i wake up, the fairy dust will fade away. let me cry myself to sleep and hold my dreams close, because if i don't, i'll lose them when your bittersweet sun begins to rise.
Literature
welcome to the real world
1. if someone invites you back to their place
for coffee, and you only drink tea,
don’t stress:
you probably won’t actually be drinking coffee.
2. when the creepy guy from work asks you out
again and you think about accepting for the first
time because you’re sick of going home alone and
you have never learned how to say no, don’t. learn.
stand in front of the mirror until you love yourself
enough for your skin to fit snug on your body. read
about the hundreds of millions of planets out in the
hundreds of millions of galaxies and feel so crowded
that you’re about to burst all over again.
3. you’re gonna
Literature
Paper-Thin Promises
the first time I caught sight of your
glistening, marble eyes,
I decided you disgust me.
I hate you the way I hate perfection:
merciless, like the snap of mantis jaws.
every fact of you is pretentious,
held high like you raise a middle finger.
You, the artist, always sculpting things,
tried to squeeze my malleable heart like white clay
and stash it in your pocket to rattle with stones.
paint me an unflinching self portrait, my dear:
this skyscraper of a boy shaking with anticipation
to build and destroy, build and destroy.
you sink in tooth and talon at first mention of beauty,
love-biting Aphrodite as though you were equals.
you're a statu
Literature
You can't have it all
but you can have the glazed heat bursting from the blacktop like a broken
fire hydrant. You can have the jangle of keys
swinging from your hip with each stride.
You can have the tactility of leather and the graze of
bathroom mosaic tiles under a cold shower pelting
bullets and when the water cuts off
you can have dry book pages. You can have happiness,
though it will often be bitter, like finding a stranger’s
wallet full of pictures of smiling children until you
return it to find that the couple is barren.
You can have the scratches on the back of his knuckles,
faded, yet raw. You can have the translucency of sheets
in the sun, silhoue
Suggested Collections
"antique roller coaster you just had to ride
i remember how you laughed at the terror in my eyes
color in the detail
just like it was yesterday"
why we said goodbye--tim mcgraw
this piece has so many levels of meaning. october breaks my heart; it's the one month i feel whole. you can expect more like this.
full title: let me believe october (while there's still something to believe)
i remember how you laughed at the terror in my eyes
color in the detail
just like it was yesterday"
why we said goodbye--tim mcgraw
this piece has so many levels of meaning. october breaks my heart; it's the one month i feel whole. you can expect more like this.
full title: let me believe october (while there's still something to believe)
© 2010 - 2024 straybutterflies
Comments12
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I'm a little confused. You've placed this under Poetry. But it looks more like prose, the way there are paragraphs instead of stanzas. Am I mistaken?